I tell myself that I'm leaving,
to go alone and scream into the night air.
I arrive and try, the air in my throat is tight.
Sounds of anguish and frustration unable to holler out,
I tell myself that nothings changing,
so I grab a lighter that I've been hiding, and hold the tumour between my lips.
Slobbering tears as I lite my stress, this is as close to death as I can feel.
The venom dripping from my mouth,
my foot pressing harder against the pedal down this country strip.
A referendum in my mind embellished with motivation,
so I tilt the wheel and leave it to momentum.
.
